


I may not lead, I may not follow

by anddirtyrain



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I want the bromance back, season 4 spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You both almost got killed tonight because you didn’t have each other’s backs!”<br/>Oliver closes his eyes like the words are a physical blow. That could be a theme for tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I may not lead, I may not follow

**Author's Note:**

> Tittle from this sappy quote about friendship: "Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."

“You both almost got killed tonight because you didn’t have each other’s backs!”

Oliver closes his eyes like the words are a physical blow. That could be a theme for tonight.. He knows the angry red of the cut on his cheek is made even more evident under the harsh fluorescent lights of the makeshift lair, can feel it burning and realizes that an inch or two more and he would’ve lost his eye.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Diggle wince as he wraps a strip of bandage around his wrist. It was a close call, they both know it, and they’re both taking everything Felicity’s handing them in stride. She’s not wrong.

“Do you understand that?! What if Laurel and Thea hadn’t gotten there in time?”

She takes a breath, her voice ringing in the subsequent silence. He opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorr-“

“No! Don’t apologize to _me_ about this!” He lifts his eyes from the floor and looks at her, really looks at her, for the first since they came back. Her face is red and her chest moves fast with the rhythm of her breathing. Unshed tears shine in her eyes and he hates himself for putting them there, for putting them all in this situation.

She looks at them both before grabbing her purse and leaving without another word. A second later the metal door closes, and he and Digg are alone for the first time since before Nanda Parbat.  He itches to follow after her, but he knows there’s a conversation to be had first.

“She’s right,” Dig’s voice booms from behind him. He walks over to him and leans against the metal table to his side. “Even when we’re out there, we’re not out there together.”

He squeezes his eyes, regret cursing through him when he remember how that came to be. How he caused it.

“And that’s on me, I know that,” he tells him. “Now more than ever, I _know_.” If it had been Felicity Diggle had put in harm’s way, no matter how fabricated…if it had been _their_ child? The punch he got seems like little next to what he deserved. “But we can’t let my actions affect us in the field. Hate me, Dig, but don’t let me be responsible for you not going home to Lyla and Sara.”

“And again with that guilt. I’m starting to think it’s not you but this city that brings it out of you,” Diggle shakes his head. “Tonight wasn’t your fault, both of us didn’t have it.”

“Maybe it was too soon for me to go back out there,” he admits.

“No. Laurel and Thea were right when they said we needed you,” he crosses his arms, and Oliver can detect the slight catch on his voice. He knows the pride of wanting to be enough for this city. “But Felicity is right too, we need to have each other’s backs out there. And I know we have things to work through, but we’ve got make sure tonight doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

Diggle grabs his coat from the table and turns to him before walking out the door.

“And I don’t hate you, man. In fact, I might have already started on that whole forgiving thing.”

➳

He walks onto the parking lot with a strange uncertainty the last few months had erased from him. Is Felicity waiting for him? Or was she upset enough that she went home without him? The thought sends a pang to his chest, right over his sternum. And if she did, should he follow her? Would she want him to?

His spiraling thoughts calm when he sees her inside their car, the glow of her tablet reflecting off her glasses. He knocks the window and hides a small smile as she jumps at the sound. She unlocks the door and he slips into the passenger’s sit quietly, his mood marginally better. The last vestiges of adrenaline are leaving his system, and leaving him in turn, exhausted.

“How did it go with Dig?” she asks, her voice a little rough. He can’t help leaning over the center console and resting his forehead on the crook between her neck and shoulder, his hand on her waist. Her fingers stroke his hair in a way that makes the last of the fight go out of him, and all he wants to do is lay down next to her and sleep. She kisses his cheek when he doesn’t answer, her fingers reaching for the keys as he returns to his seat. “It’s okay, we’ll talk when we get home.”

➳

Her apartment is cold and quiet when they enter. They've been staying here for the couple of days they've been back, but it still doesn't feel like home. Not only in the way an empty building is when the owners have left; but in a way that means Felicity hasn’t been here for months, and the very house seems to begrudge it. The lack of warmth is characteristic of a place where she was but isn’t anymore. He knows the feeling all too well.

He sits on the edge of her bed, resenting a little that the things they have, where they live, aren’t theirs anymore, but hers or his. He doesn’t like the separation. The familiar sound of Felicity washing of her makeup comes from the adjoining bathroom though, and it’s comforting, normal. Something to connect their old life with this one now that they’ve returned to Starling. He shakes his head. _Star._

She turns the light off in the bathroom and walks out, climbing on the bed. He feels her kneeling behind him, then her arms wrapping around his shoulders, the familiar scent of her enveloping him.

“I’m sorry about using my loud voice on you tonight” she tells him, her head nestled on top of his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.”

“I still don’t like yelling at you.” She kisses his shoulder and he smiles a little.  “You really scared me tonight, Oliver. Both of you.”

He covers her hand with his own.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear that,” she tells him.

“What do you want to hear?” He asks quietly, rubbing his thumb over her arm, counting himself lucky that his sister was there to save him tonight.

“That you two are working through things?” She plops down behind him, her knees digging into his ass. “I want him to forgive you.”

“Maybe I don’t deserve that,” he says into the dark of the room, running a hand over his face.

“You do,” she tells him, a conviction in her voice that still makes something flare in his chest. “And even if you didn’t, he is your best friend-“

“ _You’re_ my best friend,” he’s quick to correct her, finally turning around and meeting her eyes. She’s taken off her glasses already, and she’s squinting a little, trying to make him out.

“You need each other out there,” she tells him, that soft voice she uses on him sometimes making an appearance. The half-smile on her face at his words is painted just a little sad.

“We talked,” he says, wondering if his answers could be considered conversation.

“Talked?” Felicity asks, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Or were all manly and grunted words at each other and nodded, and somehow decided that constituted a conversation?”

He smiles.

“He doesn’t hate me,” he shrugs.

“No one that’s loved you could ever hate you Oliver,” she tells him, her hand on his cheek. He leans into her touch. “Be terribly mad at you and your brooding ‘I’m not telling anyone about my plans’ ways? Yes-“

“Using loud voice?” he asks, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“U-huh,” she nods playfully, tugging him into bed as she moves closer to the pillows. “But not hate you. He’ll come around.”

As he lies down next to her, wrapping his body around her, Oliver starts to think so, too. His last thought before succumbing to much needed rest is that it’s not the city, or the house. Hope is easier when _she’s_ next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Arrow fanfic, inspired by Felicity's words on the trailer and the boys' broken bromance. And the fact Oliver no longer has to bottle his feelings but can actually go home with Felicity and get some relief for all that emotional baggage. English isn't my first language so any corrections are much appreciated.


End file.
